


A Flame of Hope

by sonicsora



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Bioshock Infinite Spoilers, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth cannot change her fate, but she can help her younger self. It will only take a well placed tear and a note. Spoilers for the game within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Flame of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, this is very spoileriffic. I'm warning again since you're not gonna understand what is going on without being halfway through the game. So- yeah. 
> 
> Still unbeta'd, but I tweaked some wording and added some new stuff below as of Nov 2015.

She could only survey her work with a frown, there was no real pleasure here for her. She had stopped feeling anything akin to joy since the day her eyes were opened by her father. The prophet’s words, his prayers and cure had done its work. She had become his lamb to be led to her proper future.

Now she knew no man deserved kindness, no man deserved grace and no man deserved freedom. Obedience and brutality was all they should have in life. Mankind was pitiful, weak to sin. Without guidance they faltered and fell into the animal instincts borne into them. 

Elizabeth brushed hair out of her eyes as she stepped back from the console. Her gaze dropped to the tattered edges of her skirt for a moment in contemplation before walking out of the control room. The din of the robotic voice fading the further she got from it. It reciting a countdown to their approach to New York. Before, she might have felt something at fulfilling her destiny, now it rang hollow.

Dewitt would be here soon. 

The thought was so familiar, it was almost nostalgic. Tinged with old regret and something Elizabeth fleetingly identified as affection. She had dreamed of being saved by him, for months and months. The feeling was gone as soon as it came however, crushed by well worn feelings of bitterness and frustration. An anger beaten into her that it felt more right than anything else.

Some part of her still lapped up her father’s words, the lie that Dewitt would never come for her. He had broken her to his will, just as he wanted. The ever obedient daughter, the Lamb of Columbia filling the role she was born for. The proud child standing tall next to him as he preached. She was his accessory, his aid, his successor. She remembered smiling, laughing, quietly listening to him. How she wanted his praise and promises. How she wanted that strength and love. No one could love her like The Prophet could. She knew it deep in her bones, she belonged to him. She was the perfect lamb, treading lightly and accepting his anger with grace.

As she grew older, as she took the reins from her father to lead their people. As his sickness gained ground, she became the face of Columbia. It was easy at first, almost a relief to lash out and punish the sinners she saw before her as Comstock had done to her. She followed his example so easily, so readily. People feared and loved her in equal measure. She wasn't oblivious, Elizabeth knew it was mostly fear, the fear of being killed kept most in line. People fell in line with fear. She knew from first hand experience.

She learned how false it was soon enough. How Songbird had been the reason Dewitt had never come, how her father kept crushing every attempt the man made. Looking through old records and sorting through The Prophet’s belongings after his death had cleared that up for her. Her father had the terrible knack of recording his thoughts on Voxophones or in written word. His arrogance clear and display for any and all who found his unedited word. She had only intended to find a photograph of her parents together that night and found much more.

All she had to do was break the siphon and she could _see_. The doors sang for her, so elegantly, so clearly. Promises of futures she never lived or could have seen. All it did was make something akin to excitement burn low and hot in her belly. She had a hunger she hadn't felt in decades.

It had brought back an old rebellious bit of her spirit, a sickness she had thought she was cured of: hope. 

It was why she reached out, why she found Dewitt wide eyed and yelling her name. Screaming to the heavens at Songbird as he charged across the bridge. He didn’t even see the tear she pulled open for him, his eyes were focused on the sky, his expression one of determination and anger. The thunderstorm raging around Dewitt paled in comparison to him. 

The thought made her stomach lurch uncomfortably. She had gotten so used to hating what Dewitt represented, seeing him again, seeing him care and come to find her just made the greying woman feel like her world was pulled from its seams.

Dewitt rocked her world view again, that damned man. He had a terrible habit of doing that to her.

She wanted to hate Dewitt, things had been simpler when she was nothing but rage and condemnation to mankind. All she could do now was picture his expression, the way his knuckles turned white from how hard he grasped his gun as he ran. The pure anger and vengeance that was promised in his voice as he screamed at Songbird-it was real. He hadn’t left her. 

Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling as she walked down the stairwell. The quiet of her home was a comfort in this odd time. The broken glass strewn on the hard concrete floors, the faded broken wood panelling, the chipping paint peeling in places and half done sewing projects were familiar. The quiet moldy air was a comfort to her. Stillness had always been her preference since she was cured. Soon the quiet would be broken as she crushed the Sodom below. Watched the world burn away its sins. She would do as she was told. Even beyond the grave, the old bastard yanked her leash and whispered commands in her ears. The thought of Comstock getting his way made her audibly growl, clenching her fist as she came to a stop.

She was going to change their fates, even if it meant she had to have hope again in her heart. She would nurture this flame, give her younger self something to grasp onto, to use. This anger and knowledge together could make change. 

Elizabeth couldn’t stop the course she had for herself now, but she could prevent it from ever happening in the first place.


End file.
